The Werewolf, The Witches and The Murder
by Supervixen
Summary: (2 Chapters out of ?) My sequel to A Comeback, A Spark and A Confused Wiccan. It picks up the same year during Thanksgiving break. Willow and Oz are together, but they will have to face a new threat. Spike returns.
1. Default Chapter Title

Title: The Werewolf, the Witches and The Murder  
Rating: PG-13 (Language, *suggestive* scenes, if you will...)  
Pairings: It's a whole lot of confusion, just read the fic...Mainly W/O.  
Reviews: Oh please oh please oh please! :)  
A/Note: This is my sequel to A Comeback, A Spark and A Confused Wiccan, brought to you by popular request...or at least, lack of popular protest. Later I am *winces* bringing Angel into this, I know I'm sort of...well, blatantly contradicting myself from last time...I hope I write him well, it's my first time with him in a story so please be kind? *Hopeful grin* Usual Oz/Willow in the spotlight. Oh and have no fear, Spike will be back! That's about it. Yep. Okay. Read on. Carpe Diem! <3  
  
Willow's breath came out in pants as she dodged the vampire's solid punch to her head. It annoyed her a bit to think she would've been dead by then if Buffy hadn't wounded the thing earlier, but truth was truth. Her hand fumbled around for a stake in her bag. With relief, she felt her fingers hit wood. As the vamp loomed closer, she lifted the stake and drove it home. The demi-demon stared at her with something almost like disbelief etched on his face, then exploded into dust. She coughed and waved the debris away from her face.   
_Note to self...back away when they dust...  
_"Look at you, Will," Buffy's suitable impressed voice came from behind her. She turned toward her friend and grinned happily, triumph and pride evident on her face.  
"I got to dust one!" She said with a little too much delight.  
"And in a skirt too," her friend added.  
Xander walked over gasping for breath, "hey Xander, great fight huh?" The Slayer gave him an enthusiastic smile.  
"Yeah...great. And while you two gals are celebrating Will's vampire-kill-of-the-month or whatever, of course no one bothered to check on poor Xander. No one cares about Xander...so what if he had to stake 3 big uglies on his own, so what if he almost got the life sucked out of him...no, it's oka-"  
"I think I liked you better gasping hungrily for air," Buffy interrupted dryly.  
"Hey, I don't know about the girls, Xander, but the whole time we were fighting those vamps, I was only thinking about you," a quietly sarcastic voice from behind Willow piped up for the first time. The Wicca's grin went even wider as she turned to face Oz.  
"Did you see me stake that one?" She asked eagerly, the primitive but still exhilarating rush of combat still in her.  
"Yeah, you staked him. You staked him good," he replied with his trademark half smile.  
Buffy's face took a turn for the serious as the tired but glowing group ambled around the now silent cemetery, "those vamps were traveling in a good sized pack," she mused, "and they we're stupid fledglings either..I wonder what they were up to?" she shrugged slightly, shifting into her business persona, "how many got away?"  
"Uhh...I counted maybe 5?" Xander replied.  
"We should talk to Giles about it, get into research mode," Willow piped up, pausing to tuck her stake back into her bag.  
Buffy smiled tightly at her friend, "they were almost fledglings," she said with a humored scoff, "let's worry about it tomorrow...speaking of which, that's when boyfriend of mine comes home," she added cheerfully.  
"Did he visit the folks for Thanksgiving?" Xander asked.  
"You bet," she replied, her voice brightening, "it was his sister's 16th birthday the 26th too so they did the family thing for the holidays," the group finally reached the cemetery gate, "well, that was a nice little blast from the past...how 'bout we call it a night?"   
There was much agreement, especially from the Xander party.  
"Hey Buff, I'm gonna go with Oz tonight," Willow said softly to her friend as they parted, "don't wait up." Buffy flashed her a devilish grin.  
"Okay, have fun."  
  
Willow allowed Oz to lead her to his room though she knew exactly where it was. As he fiddled with the doorknob and apparently uncooperative key, she smiled to herself, studying him..the slight smile he wore so well, the mused hair, currently his natural color, a nondescript red/brown and the gentle eyes she loved so much...their depth and warmth, how they could capture her, calm her, tell her how very much he cared without him even speaking.  
"My lady," his voice interrupted her thoughts as he held the door open for her with a grin. She curtsied neatly, holding her torn skirt.  
"My....not lady," she replied, finding the word Lord just not fitting. He just smiled again and followed her into the room. She sat on the bed, allowing the subtle Oz-like smells to fill her mind. She occupied her hands with his stereo, putting one of her CDs in and pressing play. The soothing sounds of Bic Runga filled the air and she felt his hands gently massaging her shoulders.  
_Don't stray, don't ever go away  
I should be much to smart for this  
You know it gets the better of me  
Sometimes  
When you and I collide   
I fall into an ocean and you pull me out-  
_His hands dropped from her shoulders and he propped himself up on one elbow and ran a finger down her spine with the other hand. She smiled and lay beside him, allowing his hand to run through her short copper hair as she indulged in everything about him.  
"Tonight was a rush," he commented.  
"Yeah," she agreed, "haven't had one of those group slaying sessions since..." she shuddered for effect, "highschool."  
"It's weird...it never used to hit me this much, but tonight...I'm just so tired..." he sighed.  
She grinned, "too tired to..well..." she leaned over and whispered a very detailed plan in his ear. His eyes widened.  
"...but," he added, not skipping a beat, "not so tired that I couldn't pull one of those."  
Willow laughed as he growled playfully and pulled her beneath the covers.  
  
"No...Don't leave me...please....Oz...come back..."  
Oz bolted awake at the noise. He looked wildly about the dark room to assess the danger, but he found none. His face softened as he looked down at Willow. A troubled look rippled her slumber as she jerked back and forth in obvious distress next to him. Gently, he shook her shoulder.  
"Will...Will...wake up, it's just a dream. I'm right here."   
Her soft eyes opened shining like dark pools of oil in the black of the night and she blinked in tired surprise.  
"Oz?" Her voice was disembodied with confusion.  
"I'm right here....I'll always be right here. I'm not going to leave you, it was all just a dream," he whispered soothingly to her.  
A dazed look crossed her face, "A dream?"  
"Yes, just a dream."  
She nodded uncertainly, "okay, if you say so." Without another word, she wrapped her arms around him and slipped away from the conscious world. He sighed with relief hearing her deep, easy breathing. But his brow creased, troubled. Yes, he was here, but it hadn't always been a dream. Not all of it.  
  
Early morning sunlight danced across Willow's face, stirring her from her slumber with a gentle shake. She groaned and stretched, rolling over to face Oz. His eyes were already open and he was gazing at her.  
"Morning," he said simply.  
"Mm...morning," she answered, sitting up, modestly wrapping the sheets around her, "how long have you been up?"  
"Not too long," he replied evasively.  
"You should've woken me." Her voice went muffled as she pulled a shirt over her head.  
"I was going to, but you looked all...peaceful like."  
"Well, how'd you sleep?" She pulled a clean pair of pants on and after assessing yesterday's battered skirt, she tossed it into a garbage bag. _Stupid vamps. No respect.  
_"I don't recall sleeping too much..." he grinned watching her flush, "but I was fine. More than fine," he paused, hesitant. "How about you? No dreams?"  
__Her brow creased...yes, she had a dream...but she couldn't recall. She shook her head, "not that I remember."  
Oz cleared his throat and nodded, "so, where do you want to go for breakfast?"  
"Definitely Denny's. They have those yummy grand slam deals," she replied with a perky grin.  
"Sounds good...I'm starving after last night's exercise," he commented, walked past her. She opened her mouth in surprise and swatted him on the arm.  
"Hey!" He protested with a smile, "I was talking about patrolling."  
He shook his head fondly as he watched her leave for the bathroom. He frowned a little, at least she hadn't remembered the dream. Still, it bothered him inside. Shrugging a little, he focused on fastening his belt buckle.   
  
The afternoon light rained down upon Sunnydale, shedding a warm glow on everything and making Willow almost forget the city was situated on the Hellmouth. She entered Stevenson hall, waving to several friends she crossed paths with on the way to her dorm. Turning the corner, she bumped right into someone. With a flash on blond hair and the sound of falling books, she found herself on the ground.  
"Oh no...I-I'm...s--s-so sorry, Willow," her 'assaulter' apologized, helping her up.  
"Oh hi Tara...I'm really sorry," she blushed, embarassed and stooped to aid her friend in collecting her spilled books. Glancing at the covers of some of them, her face brightened, "so, are you practicing on any spells lately?"  
Tara's face stayed locked with the floor and her hair masked her as well. Willow pursed her lips in sympathy, Tara was so much like..well, her in her highschool years.   
"Y-yeah...I-I am..." Tara tried to smile, but it came out a friendly grimace, "I um, called you last night..to see if you wanted to try some new ones. I-I found a really uh, interesting book of them. Spells, I mean."  
It was possibly the longest sentence the blond had ever said to her, and possibly the most stuttery. Willow smiled at her shy, (well, shy was an understatement) friend.  
"I would've loved to bu-"  
Tara nodded quickly, "Buffy answered, she told me how you were with...Oz." The blond witch's face went oddly dark at the name, but Willow didn't notice.  
"Well, maybe tonight then?" She inquired cheerfully.  
"S-sure, sounds good." Her eyes stayed glued to her brown shoes as though they were the most fascinating things she'd ever seen.  
"I'll call you then?"   
Tara nodded numbly, barely hearing Willow's farewell. She felt her heart give way and her bit down hard on her lip to avoid the tears. Silly, really, Willow would never love her, at least, not the way she wanted. How could she? The thought had probably never once crossed her mind. She brushed imaginary dust off one of the books and sighed in relief that Willow hadn't seen that it. The cover of the book was dark wood, engraved with intricate swirls and thorny patterns, sending out an aura of creepy darkness. She tucked the rest of the books into a shoulder bag, but kept that one tightly in her arms all the way back to her dorm room.   
Entering the room, she locked the door and sat on the bed. The very idea of what she was going to do with that book was chilling, it sent shivers of fear coursing deep within her. Upon becoming a Wicca, she had vowed not to use her powers for even remote evil. And yet, her plan would shove aside all boundaries on her standards of what was bad. The Wicca group that she and Willow both belonged to wasn't big on spells, just pamphlets and henna, their advice could not be seeked. And yet, it was them that would help her the most, however unintentionally.   
Reaching into her bag, she glanced around the otherwise empty room with a look of paranoia before pulling out the group's thick record book. Not an hour had passed since she's neatly stolen, no, not stolen...rather, lifted, the book from the bag of the group leader, Karah. Tara's breathing was shuddery as she flipped to the bookmarked page. Her fingers shook so much that they tore the edges of the faded paper the book was opened to, but she paid it no mind. Her eyes scanned the page with a fever in them as she read the details of those that had been expelled from the Wicca group.   
There they were, names of people like Leila Hatch, Ardelia Frost, Nadine Conner, their crimes...and up to date addresses to keep tabs on them. The idiots, she though happily. Reading closer, she laid a shaking finger on the page beneath a group of expelled witches who called themselves the Potent 3. A slow smile spread across her face. With a thud, she shut the book and hugged it gleefully to her. It would take sacrifice of her morals, but at last, she would have Willow.  
  
Buffy Summers stood anxiously at Gate B-12, trying to peer over the heads of the tall family in front of her as they swarmed an aunt or whatever in greeting. Her face lit up as Riley ambled his way out of the plane and into her waiting arms. They broke apart to look at one another.  
"Hey! I missed you so much!" Her voice was full and bright. He gave her a smile and hugged her again.  
"I missed you too," he replied as they headed for the baggage claim. She attempted to take his carryon, but he batted her hands away, "I got it."  
"So..how was the family?" She asked, maneuvering through the crowded airport.   
"Great...and they loved you from the pictures I showed. And of course, from my constant rambling on how wonderful you are," he said with a grin. She laughed and took his hand.  
"That's just what I needed to hear."  
They stopped at the empty baggage claim and waited. Buffy leaned her head on Riley, feeling as though nothing could go wrong in the world as long as she stayed like that. He wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders and she looked up at him, eyes filled with adoration.   
"Anything happen in the ever exciting Sunnydale while I was gone?" He inquired.  
She shrugged lazily, "I spent Thanksgiving dinner with Mom and the gang and Giles...in general, Thanksgiving break was pretty break-ish."  
"How about in the demon department?" He pressed, lowering his voice.  
"A few slays, no biggies," she shrugged, being with him made her feel bold enough to be optimistic, "who knows, maybe it'll be quiet for the rest of the year."  
The baggage claim buzzer sounded.  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
*PLEASE REVIEW!! <3 :):)*   
  



	2. Default Chapter Title

Title: The Werewolf, The Witches and The Murder (Part 2)  
Rating: PG   
Reviews: Come on you people, you sicken me. :P Pllleeeaaase just a little one?  
A/Note: Umm...this part is sort of emotional but not active, no scene changes. Sorry if it's short or whatever, but c'est la vie. And hey, if you want to complain, do it down in that little box marked "review", all right? ;) Also, Tara has a car in this, which isn't quite uncommon among college students, except in the Buffy-verse so, just to forewarn you I guess....Happy reading!  
***This is dedicated to the wonderful Sarah, who was the only one who took the time to review my story, despite having to get off the computer, thanks Sarah* *Grin, clap clap***   
  
Tara lay back on her bed sending decorative pillows tumbling to the floor of the dark dorm room, lit only with decorative bulbs and the slivers of sunlight struggling to get through the drawn curtains. She paid no not to the cushions or how she had to strain in order to read in the poor lighting. Everything in the world had become meaningless to her in that moment other than Willow and the record book that lay open before her. She carefully flipped through page after page. The first several had been strictly business, she observed, mainly about the organization, pamphlets, divisions and more meaningless drivel. However, as the book went on, it turned less record and went more journal. Glancing at the notes she'd quickly jotted down next to her, she scanned each fresh page for "The Potent 3." Her deliberate, mechanical flipping stopped though, as she reached an interesting page she had not noticed before. In beautiful calligraphy as was the whole book, she found her name. So focused was on locating information about her goal that she quite nearly passed it over, but natural human curiosity got to her as it does with all and forced her to read it.  
Today we received a new member. Her name is Tara. I've heard from other girls that she's into spells, which I hope is not true. Although I believe in expressing one's self, like any open minded modern person, the whole spell casting deal gives the group a bad image. As if the Christians in SU's Holy Hand don't rag on us enough. But Tara seems kind of...really shy. She'll be easily stomped if she does cause trouble.   
The entry ended there without any further detail. Tara swallowed this knowledge with a flare of anger. How dare they judge her in such a way...but they were simple. Not like she and Willow. She and Willow! What a nice ring it gave, screw all else in the world. They were two bright souls glowing like licks of white fire amidst shallow blackened decay.  
She shrugged off the ignorant yet stinging comments about her and focused back on her quest. She had joined after the Potent 3 had been expelled, she was sure of that for she had never heard of them, so they must've been earlier in the book and she had missed their page. Flipping back with a renewed fanatical interest, she nearly whipped through the pages, a frenzy in her deep eyes. Her fingers stopped their frantic turning and came to rest delicately upon a page covered in flowery writing and lacking any margins, as if the writer had known that she would have to write much but did not want to waste more than a page on the subject.  
They're going to far with this, the supposed "Potent 3" whatever that's  
supposed to mean. I mean, it's bad enough for out image for them to be doing spells, but all but flaunting the "wonders" of it to other, naive members? And the spells they're talking of are not harmless, they mean to harm. I always got the weirdest feelings from them. And another thing--how manipulative they are. Innocent people aren't supposed to be manipulative. Those that are too innocent fall for the manipulative, which is exactly what happened to so many of our members. Goddess, I swear, our group never had any/much trouble before they showed up. If it hadn't been a free group, I would've dismissed them immediately. I worry about the well being and of course the message that our congregation sends out. I don't want to come off all creepy. What if SU shuts us down? They could do that, couldn't they? Many of the freshman newbies are worried about this, after all, some of them are new at the whole Wicca thing too. They don't want their parents to discover their "dark" secret...  
To Tara's relief, the seemingly endless and poorly scribed blather ended and faded into a business score with real information.  
Names: Ardis, Jade and Selena Potentae (AKA Potent 3)  
Date of joining: All at the start of the 98-99 school year  
Date of expulsions: 2/10/98  
Ages/Grades (as of 2/10/98): Ardis/20/Junior, Jade/19/Sophomore, Selena/18/Freshman  
Brief summary: Practiced spells of unethical intent ergo violating their sighed statements...persuaded others to join in...  
A slow, subconscious smile broke Tara's normally sorrowful face as she reread the names, this time out loud. Ardis, Jade and Selena. Every syllable rolled deliciously off her tongue, sending shivers down her spine. They were the key to her happiness and her Willow. Somehow in the past year of so, Tara had come to think of Willow as hers in a way, though she did not address it aloud or even to herself. It simple was to her, as truth is to all who dare see it. There was no reason for it or against it, yet there it hovered, a butterfly beating hurricanes in her heart.  
She scanned the page further down. It went further into detail about their vital statistics, date of birth - all three sisters were born exactly one year apart from the next. She noticed that the words "home town" were left unanswered as well as "high school" and anything else having to do with their backgrounds. It seemed that they'd all oddly transferred at the start of Selena's freshman year. Tara's brow furrowed, but she shrugged the peculiarity of the situation, assuming it had something to do with tight family bonds. Scanning down further, she located "current address," which, to her satisfaction had been crossed out and rewritten several times as though to prove accuracy. Taking a pen into her quivering hand, she managed to copy the latest address down on a slip of paper that had the rest of her notes scrawled on it. Giving the record book an almost affectionate pat, she carefully closed it and wiped the hard cover off with her blanket as though making a half hearted attempt to clean away fingerprints before shoving it into her bag.   
With a crazed grin of insane delight, she read the sacred address carefully, taking note of where she would find them, find the route to the Potent 3 and her happiness. She held the paper up to the light leaking in through cracks in the curtains and gave a euphoric giggle like a school girl reading a book on the human anatomy. Then she quickly lowered her arm again, holding the address to her heart and sighing deeply like a lover in a sappy 50's movie. Gazing at the paper, she placed a delicate kiss upon it before placing it with utmost gentleness in her bag which she slung over her shoulder. Her heart was a feather in the breeze as she wafted out the dorm toward her car. Things were finally falling into place.   
  
To Be Continued...  
*Don't a be a shrew, review!* :D  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Title: The Werewolf, The Witches and The Murder (Part 3)  
Summary: Willow and Oz fluff, Spike decides to return to Sunnyhell, Buffy dreams and Tara anticipates.  
Rating: PG-13 (Language mainly)  
Reviews: I thrive on 'em. You don't write, I get lazy. :)  
A/Note: I haven't written in quite awhile so I suggest that you go back and read parts 1 and 2 of the fic. Also, if you haven't read the series that preceded this, find **A Comeback, A Spark and A Confused Wiccan, parts 1-10**. If you're lazy, a brief summary: **Season 4** (A Comeback..) Oz returns and fights over Willow, with _not _Tara, but _Spike_. The Scoobies and a semi-reluctant vamp defeat Adam. Spike leaves Sunnydale and Willow stays with Oz. **Season 5** (The Werewolf..) Oz and Willow are living in fluffy bliss, but Tara, who made a tiny, non active appearance back in "A Comeback.." has fallen head over heels for Willow and has been suffering silently ever since. She has taken the record book from the leader of the hooky Wicca organization that she and Willow are part of and researched three witches known as the Potent 3 who were requested to leave the group due to their dark spells etc. And I'm done, which is good because this is becoming longer than my fic. Please review! Now, without further ado.....  
  
Willow and Oz stumbled into his dorm room, giddy and intoxicated off of the sheer happiness that comes from being young and in love. They meandered over to the bed and Willow blinked sleepily in the arms of Oz, her weariness hitting her for the first time all day. With Oz, it was amazing. All of it, love, lust, happiness, life. Like the world was no longer spinning, but rather float, gracefully turning when it felt the dire need to, but still, everything was so relaxed and easy.   
Smelling his hair and light cologne, she snuggled up close to him. He gazed at her serenely and she wondered what was running through his mind. Smiling, so happy she felt a like she would burst, she clambered onto his chest and folded her arms upon him, resting her head on them comfortably.  
"You're beautiful," he whispered hoarsely. She felt her cheeks flush pleasantly, feeling again, that surge of impossible happiness, but he wasn't finished. He slowly sat up and held her hands in his own, gazing at her intently, sincerely.  
"I know that we've, to say the least, been through a lot the past year," he started and she nodded in bittersweet agreement, "but I just want you to know that I never stopped loving you once during all that time."  
She looked back at him, a thousand thoughts running through her at once. Quivering a little, she reached out a hand and carefully stroked his brow, furrowed with emotion.   
"Me too," she replied quietly, then added quickly, "I mean, you know, except the other way around."  
He didn't have to speak, but she could hear his thought echoing out toward her, 'what about Spike?' She looked down at their clasped hands and back up at him, lips tight in her trademarked wide smile.   
"Even with Spike, I may have felt for him, but I never stopped loving you."  
Something relaxed in his features and he leaned forward, gingerly placing a kiss on her forehead. He reflected on the monumental, if fairly nonverbal exchange that had just taken place. It was ridiculous really, like she was asking him for absolution about her feelings toward Spike. It was he who should be seeking, no, begging forgiveness.   
And yet, with Veruca, there had not been love. Passion, lust, escape, perhaps as far as belonging, but never, ever love. But he had sensed, smelled something real, pure between Willow and Spike. And it had touched a jealous chord within him, a chord he didn't like one bit. But still, he smiled and watched the witch he belonged to, and vice versa, fall asleep, content and warm, cradled in his arms.  


* * *  


"Bloody hell!"   
Beer bottles went crashing and a female screamed as a table flew across the demon bar, colliding with a stampeding group of creatures of the night, frantic to get out of the seemingly deranged vampire's way.  
The weasel like bartender hurried over, puffing for breath, and pulling a fallen female, probably the one who had screamed, out from underneath a collapsed table. He cast a half exasperated, half terrified look at the demi demon before him.  
"For Pete's sake, could you keep your rage down? It's bad for business!"  
Spike glared at the meek man before him through slitted gold eyes. _He looks a lot like Willie the Snitch from Sunnyhell_, he mused thoughtfully. Then again, after his last whiskey, everyone had pretty much started to look the same. Or had it been the ciders that did it? Bloody hell, didn't matter. It was fluid and contained alcohol and that was all it took to escape. Shaking his head, he felt his vampire guise melt away to a less fearsome human one. He clutched his head...he couldn't remember being that drunk since...well, Dru left him.  
Reaching into his pocket, he extracted some rumpled bills which he tossed at the runty bartender in front of him.  
"Here's...for the damages...." he managed to slur out. He shouldered his way quickly past the slowly calming mob. They were starting to become less scared and more angry towards him, and at least one of the demons was bound to realize that he was Spike, William the Bloody, a once hardened, cold blooded killer and now a pathetic nothing who couldn't even feed off the weakest of humans.   
He staggered out onto the sidewalk outside the bar. Somehow, he found his car, but found out that his finger's weren't dexterous enough to open the door. The street where he was parked was an underground place, full of clubs devoted to the town's demon populace, and thankfully, it was dark and all but vacant, other than a few groups drinking and laughing and milling around the entrances of bars.   
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. There was absolutely no where for him to go--he couldn't lose himself in LA, that was Angel's town, and sooner or later someone would alert the stupid pouf of his presence, and everywhere else he had tried to set up home, the damned chip in his head had stopped him. He had nowhere so he stayed nowhere. Even before he'd gone and gotten trashed, he hadn't known the name of the town he was in.  
Heavy footsteps were coming down the sidewalk behind him at a casual walking pace. He whirled around and growled at the oncoming pedestrian. Big cliche green ugly. A big cliche green ugly who was smiling amiably at him, either that or baring his teeth. Probably would look the same either way, but Spike was in the mood for neither.  
"What d'you want? Looking for money? I got money! Just take my damn money...I don't even want to live anymore...I can't hurt people, I gotta stick with nasty pig blood...can't...hunt..." he blinked several times, trying to remember what the hell he had been talking about. _Oh yeah..._He sized up the green demon and thrust a few practice punches in the air, "Come on, I'll take you..I got the stones... To prove this statement, he swung at the rather perplexed looking demon and missed completely, nearly falling over. The green "rival" caught him and steadied him with a deep, rumbling laugh.  
"Careful there, you could hurt yourself," the demon stared into Spike's face, assessing him, "you don't look so good, buddy, you could use something to eat, and a good rest too."  
Spike glared pathetically at the beast before him, "I'm fine. And don't call me Buffy." He frowned, confused for a moment...no, that wasn't right. Wait, Buffy...buddy. Ah. Oops.  
But his new found "buddy" had already started talking again, "you got somewhere to go? There's a good inn down the road-" he began helpfully, but Spike cut him off.  
"Need to get to Sunnyhell...dale," he replied, sounding rather like Drusilla on a good day, as he fumbled with the passenger side door of his car.  
"Driver's seat is on the other side, pal. But you really shouldn't be driving like that. Now come on, you need a good night's-"  
"Sunnydale. Red's there..." Spike was beyond comprehension, but he still managed to come up with something relevant as he climbed in through the passenger side door and crawled across the seat to the steering wheel, "hey, wait a moment, buf...er, buddy?"  
The green demon peered in at him anxiously, "yes?"  
"Where the hell am I and how far is it from Sunnydale California?"  


* * *  


Buffy awoke with a start and she sat up in bed. Looking down at herself, she quickly clutched a blanket to her, then felt silly. She was alone in the room, save Riley, who was still sleeping serenely next to her. Exploring the floor along the side of the bed, she found her boyfriend's shirt and pulled it over her messy hair. She inhaled deeply his scent and put two shaking feet on the ground.   
Patrolling had been easy the night before, nothing unusual. In face, everything save for that slightly odd vamp activity she, Xander and Willow had cited a few weeks ago, had been well, oddly normal. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Not to be the cynic, she thought, but bad things always happen on the quiet days.   
She stood and began pacing the bedroom and one of her eyebrows dipped as she retreated into thought...she'd had the strangest dream the night before...but she couldn't remember it. Nothing remained of it except for one image, a book, covered, not in leather, but in dark wood. And a face carved into the front cover amidst thorns, a face carved in deep, a face carved in anger.   
"Morning," a cheerful voice said from behind her and she nearly jumped out of her skin.  
"Riley!" Her voice was a little too relieved and he looked at her oddly.  
"Buffy!" He replied with teasing zea; and she broke into a smile, feeling silly at how worried she had been. "You all right? You seem kinda jumpy," he intoned, pulling on pants.  
"Jumpy? Who? Me? Nooo...no," she tried to reassure him. He gave her a baffled look and nodded.  
"All right then..."  
She smiled and copied the shake of his head...it was just a dream, probably nothing.  


***  


The sun seemed to shine extra bright for Tara as she rose from the first relaxed slumber she'd had in so long. The wood bound spell book holding the key to her Willow had spent the night hugged tightly to her chest, the address of the Potent 3 tucked neatly inside the needed page with a contrasting Yikes! paper clip. She wandered out of bed, shrugging a maroon kimono on over plain white cotton pajamas, and did a quickly mental inventory of the magic supplies on her desk. All in order for the spell that she, with any luck, with the Potent 3, would hopefully be performing that very night. She stolled over to the window, rubbing her arms to warm them. Impulsively, she pulled aside the curtains, allowing the sunlight, which had been impatiently seeping through the cracks between the drapes and the window frame, to stream in. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sudden warmth on her face and whispered into the morning, "Willow." And it was so perfect it chilled her despite the beaming sun.  
  
To Be Continued . . .  
  
  
  



	4. Trouble Starts

Title: The Werewolf, The Witches and The Murder (Chapter Four)  
Summary: The Potent three make their first appearance, the Scoobies receive a warning from a strange source and Spike returns to Sunnyhell.  
Rating: PG (Maybe leaning toward PG-13 due to language. And Riley niceties...he he, Leni *Grin*)  
Reviews: Love them to itty bitty confetti sized pieces.  
Author Note: Ughh...Is anyone else getting really confused by the new Update date system of sorting fics? I appreciate it, but it's...hard. *Pout* Okay, that was lame. Moving on...Thanks everyone for the reviews!  


***  


"Camera one closes in, the soundtrack starts, the scene begins..they're playing you now..." Camera One/Josh Joplin Group  


***  


  
The building looked as though it should have been destroyed by the city years ago. The cracked plaster siding just barely hid a skeleton of long since created, crumbling brown bricks which further betrayed some wood support beams. Then again, that whole section of structures on the outskirts of Sunnydale appeared to just be one collective, festering malignancy, full of decayed souls and people who wanted to be forgotten. The beautiful, shallow population of the city simple tended to turn away from it, powdered noses in the air. Those on the important boards created with the purpose of dealing with such places kept their limousine windows tightly rolled up as they toured it, pretending to be thinking up solutions to problems they had replaced in their minds with golf games and caviar.  
But those that inhabited the crumbling gray buildings didn't seem to mind. They were never the ones complaining about the conditions. Had the shadowed people from the slums wanted to move, they well could have. Of course, that could require moving around during the daytime, something they often deterred from due to various reasons. The streets often seemed vacant during that dreaded daytime, the blasted sun beating down upon the pavement below. There were, of course, those slightly more...warm blooded residents that would walk about during the earlier hours, but they walked quickly. And they never came out at night when the others did. Though no one mentioned it aloud, there was always a manner of shared secrecy hanging in the dusty air and they left it there to wan. Of course, it never did.  
The initial subject, the simple two story brick building, worthy or not, did in fact hold within it's walls a family. They would've seemed suspicious in any other part of town. Any place with decency. After all, with three attractiveseemingly _jobless_ young women who were always well clothed in class and style....well, one had to wonder where they got the money. In that particular place, no one did. Those that paid it any attention assumed...no, rather, they knew. A certain wisdom comes from living in a place lacking any moral or social structure and these people carried it. But they would've been wrong in judging those three girls. Quite wrong.  
Ardis Potentae gazed down from the bedroom window toward the empty street below. Night was falling upon Sunnydale. She savored the hours during dusk...the way they slipped through her fingers, the sensation it sent through her, witnessing the world slip from daytime, with it's false face of cheer and daisies into nighttime, when the mask was stripped and shattered on the blackened pavement. She cast a quick glance into the small room she stood in. It was sparklingly neat compared to the building that contained it.   
A dark wood dresser stood in the corner, covered with odd bottles filled with stranger ingredients. The bottles and various other containers continued off the dresser down onto the top of a small bookshelf standing next to it. In the center stood a small black pot filled with old charms and talismans. A large collection of cracked, leather bound books were jammed into the bookcase. Finally, lining the far wall stood three small but beautifully laden beds draped in strange, richly colored quilts and silks. The first two beds were empty and cold, but in the last, the slight form of a young girl...perhaps young lady, lay staring up at the ceiling. Her wide black eyes seemed to open into oblivion, blank and empty, but her tiny red mouth was open, mumbling rapidly but without words. Thin, pale hands lay clasped over her fragile chest, heaving with effort. Dark, rich chestnut locks sprawled around her exquisite face covering the pillow beneath.  
Ardis gave a heavy inward sigh as she turned completely toward her youngest sister. She loved the girl, but this cryptic power sensing mumbo jumbo of hers could get tiring...  
"What is it, Selena?" Ardis' voice was deep, rich and full. There was a trace of a long since forgotten accent, but every syllable that flowed from her mouth was perfectly enunciated. Something behind it made the listener feel luxurious, satisfied yet in a way, overpowered.  
The girl didn't reply, only continued her endless stream of silent babble. Soft breathing came from the dark doorway at the other end of the room and Ardis looked up to acknowledge it. Slow, shuffling footsteps entered, their owner burdened with carrying a tiny silver tea tray. Jade Potentae looked up to meet her older sister's eyes and nodded in greeting.  
"I brought her some tea," her voice never rose above a whisper, gentle and delicate. Jade set the tea stray down on a stool by Selena's bed and carefully poured something that rather resembled hot chocolate from the pot into a cup, stopping now and then to brush a strand of long, flaxen hair from her face.  
"Just like lace, she is..." The soft proclamation came from Serena as the girl sat up weakly in bed. She smiled with a girlish demeanor at her two sisters. Ardis stepped down from the step by the window and walked over to join the others.  
"How do you feel, Selena? Did you see something?" Her intense brown eyes stared hard at her sister as she spoke, "anything at all?"  
As usual, Selena didn't reply, only took the tea cup full of hot cocoa from where Jade had offered it to her and sipped slowly. Ardis frowned, honestly, Selena so often resembled a little girl stuck in the body of someone 18. Then again, as long as they got what they needed, age was irrelevant to them...  
Meanwhile, Selena's eyes, now bright with thought had cast over to Ardis. She pouted at the seemingly older woman.  
"You're not like lace. You're more like...like..." she gazed into the cup in her hands, "chocolate...forbidding yet delicious."   
She nodded to herself, pleased with the prognosis. Then, without further warning, she pulled her blankets to her chin, rolled over in bed and fell fast asleep. Jade frowned slightly, then stood from her place next to the bed.  
"Has she been like that all day?" Ardis inquired. Her sister nodded, still looking thoughtfully at Selena.  
"She couldn't find anything. Did you? While you were doing The Reading?"  
Ardis shook her beautiful head and pursed crimson lips, "no, and with the nonsense Selena's been coming up lately, it appears we're falling into a drought of souls."  
Suddenly, the bedridden girl sat up and glared defiantly.  
"I did find something!"   
Jade raised an eyebrow, not wanting to get her hopes up with the flaky girl, "oh? And why didn't you tell me?"  
"You never asked."  
Jade opened her mouth in protest but Ardis intervened, "of course, that's logical.." She took the younger girls impossibly cold hands in her own, "now, what did you see?"  
"The hot chocolate truly was lovely. Thank you Jade," Selena's wild, wide-set eyes looked everywhere at once, sucking in the entire universe.  
Ardis began to lose her patience. The news, if relevant, could be just what they needed. Her voice took a pitch of urgency and she clutched the icy hands in her own harder.  
"Tell me what you saw, Selena."  
"Oh that...a silly girl really, but a lovely creature. She attends that horrid SU school we used to visit..." a fit of high pitched giggles broke her speech, "silly thing, we don't even need to fetch her. She's coming here! Oh, and she has much inner power, and she practices a bit...but she's quite sad, she's in a one sided love."   
The three girls traded looks, they knew what heights of desperation that drove people to.  
"Her name," the girl seemed to be losing concentration, and her eyes, like little pools of oil, traveled the length of the room, "...is Tara."  


***  


"So," Xander commented as the group was gathered at the Bronze, later that night, "how's with the slayage, Buff? Haven't been updating with your faithful bud Xander of late."  
Buffy looked up, obviously startled at the sound of his voice. She spun around to gaze at the Bronze-ish activites surrounding her and looked further stooped. Taking a quick glance at the funny looks her friends were giving her, she broke into a nervous grin.  
"Oh! Umm..sorry, I was distracted. A little," she managed.  
"Yeah...just a bit," commented Xander. Willow elbowed him.  
"What's wrong, Buff?" The Witch inquired, concerned look on her face.  
Riley put a protective arm around her and raised an eyebrow, "yeah, you've been acting a little off today."  
"It's...it's nothing you guys," she said, forcing another smile, "really, I guess I'm just tired." She looked at the frowns around her and suddenly felt the need for fresh air. Gently escaping Riley's half embrace, she got up from her seat.  
"I just need to go outside for a bit...I'll be right back."  
She hurried toward the door, leaving them rather speechless. She knew she was blowing them off and that they were bound to worry, but she just couldn't get the dream out of her head. She couldn't remember the exact events of it, but the feeling that remained was enough to tie a knot in her stomach. And that book, the odd book that was burned into her mind haunted her...She would go see Giles and if she described the symbol of it he could-  
Suddenly, the door to the Bronze banged open and a girl rushed in, a blur of dark hair and red dress. The bouncer hurried in after her in apparent pursuit. As quickly as she had run in, she fell to the floor, screaming and howling. Buffy backed up a step, stunned, then rushed forward to the fallen girl. She subconsciously felt her friends close in with the rest of the Bronze's visitors.  
"Back up everyone! She needs a...doctor!" She yelled, trying to move the rest of the concerned patrons back. Most of them complied.  
"I'll go call an ambulance!" Someone cried.  
Riley moved forward and Buffy backed up, allowing him full attention of the girl. His face shifted into a stunned expression as he felt her pulse.  
"My God, Buffy, her pulse rate is insane...she's never going to make it." His voice was hushed as though to sheild the girl from this knowledge, but her eyes were glazed over in such a way that Buffy was certain she wouldn't hear anyway.  
Willow, Xander, Oz and Anya were shooing the remaining crowd back as Buffy and Riley gently moved the girl so that they could see her face easier. Sweat poured down a pretty, but terrified face. Glassy, blue eyes rolled around crazily in her head.  
Riley gently took one of her trembling hands, "Miss, can you hear me? Can you respond?" The girl's wild gaze went everyone at once and her mouth was slack. He sighed, "it's no use, she's just gone."  
Willow bent down next to her, knowing the situation was completely hopeless, but compassion getting the best of her, she took her scarf and used it to gently wipe the girl's forehead. Suddenly, she girl reached up nabbed Willow's hand. The witch cried out and backed up in surprised. Oz went to pull her wrist free, but the other girl's grip was like an iron vise. Suddenly, her eyes seemed to blaze with a feared look as she turned straight toward Willow, seemingly gazing through her. Willow winced without meaning to.  
"They're starting again..." she whispered, "they're starting to drain us...no one can run from it...they're taking all the old and attacking the new..."   
With that, she promptly fell back onto the floor and expired, just as the ambulance crew barged in through the door.  


***  


"Giles! It was horrible!" Willow cried, clinging to Oz's hand as she shivered, "there was something so...so afraid in her, and her hands...they were like ice..."   
"Did the paramedics say anything to you?" Buffy asked Riley who shook his head negative in response. She sighed, frustrated.  
The ex-watcher/librarian took off his glasses and pinched his the bridge of his nose, strained from the late time and the amount of information being dumped on him.  
"Was...was there anything else? Anything you can possibly remember?"  
The group began to shake their heads when Willow suddenly brightened.  
"Yes! There was something." They all glanced up at her, startled. She eagerly reached for a pad of paper and began to sketch something.   
"It was below her collarbone, just below where her dress started. When she fell, she left it exposed. At first, I thought it was just some decorative tattoo..but the ink was funny, not..pretty, more like the numbers Nazis printed on Jewish people during the Holocaust," her voice softened, "my grandmother had ink like that on her," she shook herself, "and I think I've seen part of the design in a spell book...maybe a history book before."  
They all closed in to see her finished work and Buffy cried out in surprise.   
"That's the symbol from my dream!"  
  


***  


"Damn lines..." Spike squinted hard, trying to focus on the road lying before him, "won't hold still."  
Stupid things, they were. Those little yellow dashed lines in the center of the road? Who needed them, after all? What good were they?   
"Bloody hell!"  
Had driving always been this hard? Perhaps all he needed was a rest...yes, but he was nearly in Sunnydale. Sunnydale! Ha! Why was he returning to that nasty little nook of the world? Out of every other place open to him, and everything was. Because of a bloody piece of plastic and metal jammed into his brain somewhere. Because he, how pathetic was it? Couldn't suffice without help that he probably wouldn't find anywhere else except above a Hellmouth.  
And because of a certain red haired witch...  
He quickly brushed that last involuntary comment away and scolded himself for thinking thoughts like that...  
He gaze a deep sigh of relief as his car rattled and roared past the cheery pastel colored "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign. Annoying thing, it was, so falsely warm. He'd have to remember to roll it over on his way out. He was going to leave, wasn't he? Of course he was.  


***  


Tara shivered involuntarily as she climbed the stairs of the brick building. It took as though it could've been a charming boarding house a long time ago. She glanced again at the chipped plaster and boarded windows and sighed, a _very_ long time ago, she amended. Almost longingly, she gazed back toward her car. It wasn't terribly far away, she could easily leave and never return to this place, never look back. But no, she'd come this far. And though she'd used most of her courage simple entering this sector of town, she still had some to spare, especially on the grounds of love. All the same, she thought to herself, she was very glad to have come during the day and not at night.  
From beneath the folds of her soft, hooded poncho, she drew the spell book that had slept in her arms for the past few nights, so afraid she was to lose it or have it discovered. Tracing the dark carvings on the cover one last time, she tucked it back where it had appeared from and raised a tentative fist, placing a soft knock at the door. For a time, there was no answer, but she was too choked up with an unexplainable fear to knock again. Momentarily, she thought she had seen a movement from a curtained, dark second story window that wasn't boarded up, but no, it must've been her imagination.  
Part of her urged her to pick up her things and flee, it simply didn't feel right. Yet she stood adamantly, if awkwardly at the door, waiting in the warmth of a Southern California winter. She had never been in love before Willow, but had spent long thinking about it and how she would go about it when it approached her. Of course, now that it had discovered her, and she it, she'd forgotten all her neat logic and level headed concerns on the topic. Some emotions were simply too strong for common sense.  
Abruptly, the heavy wooden door swung open in front of her with a huge swoop, but not so much as a creak from the hinges. She sucked in a surprised gasp and instinctively backed up a few steps. When the woman who had opened the door stuck her head out though, she was drawn forward almost instantly by some unknown, incomprehensible force.  
Long, dark auburn waves coiled and tumbled down the lithe, pale shoulders just barely disclosed by the wide necked yet ultimately modest dress she wore. A beautiful, oval face peered out from behind the curtain of hair at her with striking brown eyes that swallowed and drew her into a different world. Long lashes batted her high, rosy cheekbones as she blinked in surprise at seeing Tara and as her eyes adjusted to the light of the afternoon sun.  
"May I help you?" Her voice was deep, rich, intoxicating...yet something dark lurked behind it. Tara backed up a few steps, shrinking into herself. Dammit, why did she have to be so timid? She regained her foot, standing stoically, meeting the woman's gaze.  
"I have need of a spell beyond my powers...I was hoping you might be able to assist me?"   
Good, clear sound. She was internally pleased with herself but was careful not to let it show. She kept her face somewhere between serious and neutral.  
But the woman drew into the building slight and shook her head, eyes lowered. Tara bit her lip, this wasn't good...why was this woman suddenly so fearful?  
"I'm sorry...but I...we, we don't do spells anymore," she shook her head again, "I can't help you. I'm sorry."  
"W-why?" Tara stepped in closer, suddenly bold with desperation. she was stuttering, she knew, but didn't care, all that mattered was that she persuaded this woman to help her. "Please, please...I really need your help. I don't know who else I could go to...please, I've worked so hard, I've come so far..."  
The woman looked up at her and sighed deeply, "I'm so sorry, but we don't do that sort of thing anymore, we're...we're going to become Christians now...you'll just have to find someone else-"  
"There is no one else!" Tara cried suddenly, seizing the woman's outstretched hand, "please, I'll give anything....I need your help."  
Something in her voice, perhaps the urgency, perhaps just the pyscho-desperation quality struck the woman and she stopped her look of protest. Finally, with one long, withering gaze complete with a pained sigh, she let her shoulders slump.  
"Very well...I will see what I can do to help you..I cannot assure that my sisters will be so pleased, but..." she motioned for Tara to enter before her and the younger woman complied, feeling a sense of triumph.   
Ardis watched her walk in and a trace of a smile touched her scarlet lips, then faded. Mind games worked almost too easily on impressionable girls, girls that had been socially subservient their whole lives, as she'd found before. She didn't even have time to plan victory, so eager they were to fall into her traps. She reached over and touched Tara's arm lightly.  
"Please, follow me..." she lead the girl up the dimly lit staircase, "I am Ardis Potantae."  
"I'm Tara," replied the younger witch.  
"Tara? How charming...watch your step, right this way..."  


***  


Willow hurried up the sidewalk toward Oz's dorm building. She clutched her knit purse tightly to her as a source of comfort. She shouldn't have left so late without first calling him--if she had, he would've come picked her up, or been at least waiting calmly in front for her to show up. Cursing the what ifs and should haves that kept piping into her mind, she glanced warily behind her back. Though the night was silent, she felt a sense of urgency from within, a sense of danger.  
Without warning, heavy, clumsy footsteps on her far right broke the quiet. Twigs snapped beneath shoed feet. She inhaled sharply and quickly pulled a stake from inside her bag, holding the sharp piece of wood at ready. The footsteps were drawing near her and she could hear low talking...how many were there? It seemed like only one but then who was-  
She cried out involuntarily as a man stumbled through the bushes, closer to her than she had expected. They looked up, surprised by her presence. Without further ado, they rushed at her. Freezing cold hands began to close around her throat, then suddenly pulled away as though shocked by the touch, but not before a single thought raced through her mind as a shrill scream ripped through the night, _Vampire_. She raised the stake, but expert hands tossed it away. Wait! Her foot was free! Rearing it back, she let her boot make solid contact with her attacker's patella. With a grunt, he dropped her, but not before she smelled alcohol.   
Her hands went immediately to her ankle which had twisted during her fall, but she managed to stand and hobble over into the splash of light beneath a street lamp. Her attacker, hunched over in a drunken stupor followed. Her hands jumped for her purse, but it was gone. She raised her fists up, preparing to give her surely soon to be murderer a good..puny fight before she died. A scream readied in her voice box. She could hear the vamp's own clothes ruffle as he prepared his second descent on her, but instead he blurted something out that she least expected.  
"Red?!"  
Though it was slurred, she'd recognize that voice, flavored with a British accent anywhere.  
"Oh my....Spike, is that you?"  
He collapsed heavily onto the pavement next to her, "yeah, s'me...nice to see you again." And with that, he promptly fell over.  
  
TBC...  
  
  
  
  



End file.
